


Black, Red, Gold

by Yeomanrand



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Bondage, Comment Fic, F/M, Friendship, Not Beta Read, POV Female Character, POV Third Person, Present Tense, Rope Bondage, Short, Trust, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2012-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 15:25:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeomanrand/pseuds/Yeomanrand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For <a href="http://be-compromised.livejournal.com/60569.html?thread=576921#t1162393">the prompt</a>: <i>Clint's arms, Rope, please</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Black, Red, Gold

She starts with a slip knot around his right wrist.

He watches, blue eyes calm and quiet. Both of them knowing if she's placed it wrong, if she pulls and it tightens she could do real damage to his hand, his sensitive hand.

She could ruin him, in this moment.

If she wanted.

They don't move. A second rope joins the first, red and black against the rustic brown of his skin. A third, thinner and gold as Rapunzel's straw but far stronger.

His lip curls, just a little. 

She begins plaiting. Each rope carefully placed and sectioned and crossed at each juncture, up the smooth skin and muscles over the radius and ulna and a quick twisted band below his elbow. She does not pause, continues up bicep and tricep to the armpit where she shapes another knot of black and red and gold and the melanin she herself lacks.

He sits up; she reaches behind him and draws her materials across the leather covering his back. He doesn't make this part easy for her, but he doesn't make it difficult, either.

The strands and knots grow tighter as she works her way down his left arm, using the latticework on his right as an extra set of anchor points until she's satisfied with the red hourglass at the small of his back and she closes the circuit with three more simple loops around his left wrist. 

He could slip away, she knows, despite the care in her bondage. She can see his muscles trembling with the urge to prove she doesn't hold him.

But she does, and she traces a finger just inside one neatly-formed diamond. Symmetry, and black and white and gold on her unprotesting brown canvas.


End file.
